


all she needs

by nanda (nandamai)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Pretentious, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-01
Updated: 1999-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandamai/pseuds/nanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short mood piece, and it’s a bad mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all she needs

i used to say to myself, sometimes, that all she needed was a good fuck.

terrible, i know. sexist, misogynist, who knows how many -ists i’ve never heard of, not to mention disrespectful and unkind. the sort of thing white men used to say about my female ancestors: what she really needs is a good fuck, that will stop her screaming.

i hated myself for thinking it, and maybe it was some warped justification for the torrid fantasies i had about her. hell, what else was there to do out here but fantasize about the only other person who was remotely my age and experience and who, just by the way, had given me enough looks on new earth and even on the bridge to fill seventy years of erotic dreams?

but it was more than that. somehow it helped to think there was something i could do, even just one thing i could do, to reach her.

and then, of course, there was the fact that i was in love with her.

unfortunate, but undeniable.

she let me fuck her, eventually. well and truly fuck her, once, twice, three times. i stopped counting at fifty-nine, and that was months ago and didn’t include the oral sex. they were good fucks, all of them.some were great, and one in particular was sublime. i’ve made her beg, i’ve made her come until she was in tears.

but somehow it didn’t turn out the way i imagined.

because those precious few nights she’s given me are all she’s ever given me. she still refuses to hear what i most want to say. she still takes her shore leaves alone. she still won’t let me in, or anywhere remotely near in. she changed the access code for her door, knowing i wouldn’t ask her or the computer for the new one.

i had dreams of stolen kisses in her ready room. private smiles across the table in the mess hall. sweet, glancing touches on the bridge. we used to have quiet dinners in her quarters now and then. not anymore.

not at all the way i imagined.

i sit in my quarters and i think of her just beyond the wall and i try to will her to me, try to remember the feel and the smell of her squirming beneath me, try to recall every smile she ever gave me, try to picture what she does in her bedroom, alone.

mostly i try not to love her so much.

i’m not very good at that last one.

it’s a trap as old as the stars: love them enough and you can mold them into what you love. but what really happens is that love, unable to see itself reflected in another, turns on you, eats at you. in desperation, it only tries harder. in desperation, it only pushes her further away.

i think that when i told myself all she needed was a good fuck, i really meant that i wished all she needed was me.

only now, a good fuck is all she needs me for.

and i am starting to realize that no amount of love in the universe will ever change that.


End file.
